


the principal's office

by halogensleep



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Charlotte cheated but it's not as angsty as it sounds, Charlynch - Freeform, Charlynch family, F/F, Femslash, Gender Identity, Lesbian Romance, Protective Moms, Useless Lesbians, Wrestling, becky/charlotte, charlotte/becky - Freeform, credit for inspiration to echointhenightsky, divorced lesbians still in love, divorced lesbians who still love each other, inspired by tumblr post, lesbian family, lesbian story, principal's office, protective lesbian squad, she protec she attack charlotte want her wife bac, their daughter is gender non conforming and THEY. ARE. HERE. FOR. IT.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halogensleep/pseuds/halogensleep
Summary: Charlotte and Becky have been divorced for two years and after an incident at the school requires a sit down meeting with the principal, Becky resigns herself to the fact that for the first time since they seperated she will have to be in the same room as her ex-wife.No amount of time apart could be long enough for her to master the art of unloving Charlotte Flair. For better, for worse—much, much worse, in fact—she took those vows like a blood oath that would one day be taken to the grave.Though, she wasn't about to let the big blonde learn any of it.ONE-SHOT INSPIRED BY ECHOINTHENIGHTSKY'S TUMBLR POST





	the principal's office

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [inspired by this post](https://echointhenightsky.tumblr.com/post/181242427241/when-youve-been-divorced-for-2-years-are-still)  
>   
>   
> [if you want to be flung into the sun with your charlynch feelings after you finish this story please listen to this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IiuQfYxpF0)  
>  
> 
> TW: wrestling, general scrappiness between them during a fight scene, gnc/genderqueer/butch daughter, mentions of cheating

_Hope I'm not tired of rebuilding_  
_’Cause this might take a little more_  
_I think I'd like to try look at you_  
_And feel the way I did before_

 

The house was almost quiet, and the room almost cool. The sound of early morning cartoons playing somewhere downstairs—along with a scratch to the bedroom door followed by a long, low whine from an impatient Trixie waiting for her morning walk—was all that stirred the sleeper from her deepest layers of dreams.

Becky growled and grunted as a slither of light filtered through the gap in the curtains and hit her bleary brown eyes. She sighed and flung herself over, different layers of blankets tangled around different body parts as she reached an arm out for… a woman who was no longer her wife, she remembered too jarringly. It was then she awoke already angry with the day. She stretched out, grinding her jaw and infuriated with herself for momentarily forgetting Charlotte was gone, and had been gone for some time at that.

It was a routine she went through at least twice a week, and so by all accounts she should be used to it by now. Somehow, nothing ever softened the blow of gingerly reaching out her hand in a state that was neither awake or asleep to discover nothing but untouched pillows and cold sheets where another warm, deliciously long body should be curling up for a few more extra minutes of rest.

Becky sat up and chided herself, clambering out of bed in search for the children that were definitely supposed to be washed and dressed for school by now but were most probably doing the exact opposite. She scratched Trixie’s ear and padded along the hallway, the old girl snaking through her feet like an over-excited puppy and ushering her towards the stairs. At least someone was happy to see her, Becky thought to herself and shook her head.

“She’s coming you should tell her the truth,” a small, hushed voice in the living room urged.

“I’m **not** telling.”

“Well I am, so that’s that.”

“Don’t tell her anything—”

Becky opened the living room door and caught the eldest mid-sentence. She furrowed her brows and did the thing, the universal symbol of authority that all moms inherit the moment they look at that squidgy, furious newborn face and learn that one bird mouthed expression is all it takes to stop the earth spinning on its axis.

The oldest shrivelled and became silent, the youngest simply blinked and opened her mouth ready to incriminate her elder sibling.

“Stop.” Becky raised her finger as warning, and her voice was frightfully calm. “Whatever you two are up to, I want to hear it from Emily.” She peered at the oldest.

“Trust me you really don’t...” Emily trailed, her big blue eyes glancing at anything and everything other than her mother’s intent stare.

Only nine years old and too much like the other mother for her own damn good. There was a cadence Emily spoke with, a cocksure calmness that just exuded from her. It was amusing most days, impressive even, it made the intense, sporadic loneliness that came without Charlotte being around something close to bearable. Today however it did nothing but slightly irritate. Becky folded her arms and cranked the severity of her expression.

There was definitely something big going on, no doubt at all, both of her children were washed, dressed and apparently fed if the empty cereal bowls on the coffee table were anything to go by. It looked as if they were itching to leave for school, an occurrence as rare as a Halley’s comet, Becky was growing ever certain.

“Shall we try again?” Becky suggested, hands firmly on her hips.

The small humans grew quiet for a moment.

“Mom is taking care of it. She said I shouldn’t say anything, that you wouldn’t be happy and you would make a scene at school.” Emily lifted her brows and puffed out her cheeks, pushing the blame in Charlotte’s direction.

Becky was well aware of the trick her daughter was pulling, and luckily for her it was working. There was a sudden shift within her heart, her gut, in all the tides within herself were frustration swayed like a finger looking to point blame and responsibility. Now, it was directed at Charlotte. Whatever was going on, apparently her ex-wife knew all about it and decided in all her might that she was not on the need to know list. The arrogance was astounding. The blood evaporated in her veins. This was a three double-shot espresso job, at least.

Becky licked her lips, “Alright, spill, someone get to talking before I call the goblin who comes to punish naughty children.”

“We’re not four anymore, the naughty globin isn’t even real.” The littlest, Olivia, abruptly spoke up with all the wisdom she had tenderly accrued in her six years of living.

Becky leaned in with a pointed expression. “I’m talking about Uncle Finn. I have his number on speed dial,” she said, phone already waved in the air.

Olivia recoiled behind her teddy. The urge to break face and laugh was tentatively resisted, thank god wrestling gave her a masterclass on how to maintain character no matter how hard her back was pressed into the wall.

“Thought so,” Becky tutted and then peered at her eldest, an intent look worked into her expression. “What do you say to an impromptu visit to Uncle Finn’s gym, Em? I think it would be great character building for the pair of you…”

Emily refused to break, she just lifted her chin and scowled back at her mother.

“I guess I’ll give Uncle Finn the good news that his favourite nieces are swinging by every night next week to help him mop up?” Becky doubled down and unlocked her phone.

“Fine! The girls at school were picking on Emily because she looks like a boy, Ma!” Olivia chirped, skipping around the coffee table to peer up at her mother with those innocent, big brown eyes. “Mommy is going to the principal’s office after school to fix it,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, as if she were departing the world’s biggest secret.

“Emily looks perfectly Emily to me,” Becky didn’t skip a beat.

Emily faintly smiled at the reassurance.

Olivia became too much like her mother with nothing more than a confused, furrowed look. “Well, the kids at school call her—”

“Shut up,” Emily silenced her little sister before the sentence could be finished.

Becky inhaled and swallowed, she turned to Emily with a cautious expression, lips between her teeth, heart plummeting into her gut. She knew exactly what word they had called her eldest daughter, the same one that had been scrawled all over her backpack and notebooks no more than three months ago. She had given Emily unabridged, enthusiastic permission to start kicking teeth down throats at the time, told her firmly that there would be no punishment or grounding, but the kid just wasn’t the brawling type. Olivia was the scrappy, gung-ho child. Emily was the soft, tender-hearted one.

“They been picking on you again, kiddo?” Becky tilted her head slightly.

Emily dug her hands in her khaki pockets. “It’s nothing, they push me around sometimes but that’s all. I’m tough, I can take it,” she said, half-heartedly forcing a smile.

The rage carved out intricate rivers through her veins, pulsing and throbbing until her limbs and throat ached with the desire to punch children and throttle other parents. Becky blinked and grinded her jaw, the silence more terrifying than any snap of her tongue could ever attempt to be. Nobody hurt her babies and Charlotte most certainly knew that better than anyone. This was precisely the sort of thing that lead to the end of their marriage, the arrogance was just utterly blinding.

Becky forced her voice to be soft, empathetic, motherly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked calmly.

Emily just shrugged.

“What have they been doing to you, love?” Becky wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

“Nothing,” Emily shrugged again.

“Don’t do that,” she ran her fingers through her ginger hair in exasperation. “I am your mother which means there is only one other person on this planet who will ever love either of you as much as I do…” she trailed, her lips tucking inside her teeth as her mind wandered to the woman who shared her children’s last name. “...so when bad things happen you make good and sure you tell us both, you hear me? because no matter what is going on between us we are the people who will fight to the death for both of you, _always_.” She pointed sternly at each of her girls.

Emily whined in frustration with flung out hands, too old and too young for this much unabridged motherly love in one dose, apparently. “This is exactly why Mom didn’t want me to mention anything, it’s because you’re always so…” She screwed her face up at her mother. “Intense!” She burst.

Becky tried not to seem a little hurt. “Oh yeah sorry, of course, because your mom, Charlotte Flair, is just _so_ well known for her mild manner and decorum,” she mockingly nodded in agreement with folded arms.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t make things worse the way you do!” The words punched Becky hard in the gut. “Not everything is a wrestling promo, not everything needs to be a fight to the death! It’s hard enough at school already without being _The Nature Girl_ and _The Man’s_ daughter all the time!”

An awkward silence followed the outburst, it was a heavy, potent sort of quiet. The air felt like it was vibrating with a million different possibilities of what could be said next. It was all meaningless, Becky realised, because her girls were still too small and innocent to understand the blessings and advantages that came with being their children — no matter how much they disagreed with each other from a distance. Blood, sweat and the best years of their lives went towards earning those nicknames. They were something to be proud of; a talisman of the things they had accomplished together, two beautiful children included.

“Well I still love you Mama,” the little one piped up.

“Love you too, peanut,” Becky cleared her throat and forced a tight smile. “And,” she eyed her exasperated eldest. “I also love you, slightly bigger peanut.”

“Wait.” Emily became stuck. “Is this… is the argument done already?” she asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

Becky nodded. “Today is handover day, and what do we _never_ do on handover day?”

“Fight, because a week is too long to spend angry at each other,” they both parroted the number one rule.

“Good girls.” Becky nodded and turned to Olivia, her voice lowering to a soft tone, “Liv, fetch your backpack and make sure you don’t forget Mister Wiggles and the night light too, please.”

“Mama I don’t need a night light anymore,” Olivia lied.

“I know,” Becky smiled at her youngest, “Can you get it anyway just in case the one in your mommy’s bedroom has ran flat? Wouldn’t want her to get frightened of the dark and lose out on her beauty sleep, would we?” She joked.

“Well alright,” Olivia said and skipped off to gather her things.

Becky held her breath for a moment as the tiny hurricane blew up the stairs with Trixie in quick pursuit. She turned back to Emily and felt conflicted about what to say, she looked her up and down and exhaled for what felt like forever.

“I like the way you dress,” Becky started and stopped, searching her daughter’s face for a sign of approval. Emily quirked a tiny, comforted smile. “They are just stupid, boring little weirdos. What’s the family motto, peanut?”

“Don’t let the bastards grind you down,” Emily grinned.

“Don’t let em grind you down, kiddo,” Becky ruffled her short moppy blonde hair. “I love you, unconditionally, always, forever, to the moon, to the stars, twice around jupiter, and I will tell you that whenever you need to hear it, or if ever you just feel like hearing it. So if you want to wear bow ties and shirts or anything else that makes your body feel like home, then by god you do it, love. You do it until you’re blue in the face.”

“Yes ma’am.” Emily blushed in embarrassment.

Becky nodded and straightened herself. “Good girl. I’ve left notes in your lunchbox for your mother so can you please make sure she gets them?” She scratched her head.

“Why can’t you two just talk on the phone or meet with each other like normal divorced parents?” The eye roll became astronomical.

“We’re very intense people.”

“I know.”

“Arguing is our favourite hobby and we don’t want that sort of thing around either of you, so notes in the lunchbox work just dandy. Can you please go help your sister pack her things? We need to leave in ten and I have trousers to locate.” She ruffled Emily’s moppy blonde hair again.

There was a sense of safety and comfort that came once the living room was emptied out. She stood there, drawing tight breaths that were too big for her lungs and clenched her fists to dust. Emily was figuring out who she was, learning to feed her soul, love her skin, blossom into the person she was born to be—whether that would one day involve different pronouns or not, and the thought of children parroting hateful words out of their parents mouths filled Becky with a sort of rage that knew no depth.

She had read the stories and seen the news, transgender suicides, or, rather, children bullied to death, which she firmly decided was how it should be phrased. It was tantamount to murder in her mind. She would be damned to the seventh circle of hell if that was going to be the fate of her child, and if Charlotte Flair thought that dealing with all of this was a solo mission then she could be damned straight to hell too.

Becky growled and wrangled with the knowledge that today was going to be the first in two years that she laid eyes on her ex-wife and it couldn’t be under more furious circumstances. There was no way she wasn’t attending the meeting with the principal. She clung to her disdain and anger like a comfort blanket, slung it around the parts of her heart that would always and forever beat for her ex-wife, because the truth of the matter was that no amount of time apart could be long enough for her to master the art of unloving Charlotte Flair. For better, for worse—much, much worse, in fact—she took those vows like a blood oath that would one day be taken to the grave.

Though even if it killed her, the cheater would never learn of that truth.

 

* * *

 

She smelled her before she caught a glimpse. It was the same perfume it always was, faint, delicate, that perfect floral note that was neither too sweet or sickly. Sometimes, she caught a whiff of it on the kids laundry when they came back from handover week. Sometimes, she dipped her nose into a teddy bear or a little cardigan that the perfume had rubbed off on to center herself with the safety of something so familiar, so fondly missed. By the time Charlotte turned around in her chair and they finally caught sight of each other, Becky realised too late that she was not prepared for this in the slightest.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Charlotte chided in horrified surprise, her eyebrows riding up towards her hairline.

“Mothering,” Becky sniped back and took a seat on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs next to her ex-wife. “Thank you for hiding what’s been going on with our daughter by the way, although it is very on brand for you, all things considered.”

“Oh here we go.”

“Yeah, Charlotte,” Becky hissed and bit the bait. “Here we go!”

“Don’t you dare start this shit again, not here, not now, because I will happily finish it.” Charlotte shuffled the purse on her lap, growing angrier by the second. “Try me, I dare you.”

“Well it’s good to see you too,” Becky softened, barely.

There was a more important reason that they were here after all.

Charlotte looked at her and then looked away, those pearly white teeth gritting against one another for dear life until the veins in her throat bulged out because of it. Finally, she sighed and stared straight ahead towards the door of the principal’s office.

“What did Em tell you?” Charlotte asked.

“In so many words? That they’ve been pushing her around, calling her a you-know-what again, that you told her not to talk to me about it which by the way is so disrespectful I cannot even begin to get into it with you right now.” Becky pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Did she tell you the other girls wouldn’t let her use the bathroom?”

“Wait, what?”

“It was the last handover week when they were at mine. The older girls wouldn’t let her use the bathroom, they made her—” Charlotte halted, her voice clenching in absolute blinding anger. She coughed and cleared her throat, “They made her have an accident in the hallway. The school called me, I came and got her.”

“I want names.”

“Becky, you need—”

“If you tell me to relax I promise I’m gonna elbow your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shitting veneers for the next fortnight.” Becky felt the rage become hot and palpable in her windpipe. She lowered her voice to a whisper, “How dare you think it was acceptable to keep it from me, you’re utterly unbelievable,” she hissed.

“Emily begged me not to tell you.”

“I want the names of their parents—wait, what?” Becky blinked and back-tracked. Emily had made it seem earlier like it was Charlotte who didn’t want her to know anything.

“She sobbed for days, begged me to lie and tell you she was sick so she wouldn’t have to go to yours for handover week. She settled for making me pinky-promise to handle this without telling you.” There was no glory or victory in the way Charlotte said it, Becky could tell she was torn up over everything too.

“Emily would never do that. I’m her mom-mom.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Charlotte turned, eyes narrowed accusingly.

Even if who carried which child did matter, which it didn’t, Emily was genetically Flair through and through from her height to her mannerisms and disposition, there was very little Irish in her despite Becky’s best efforts. That wasn’t even how Becky intended it to sound, anyway. It was just a mother-daughter bond between the pair that was stronger than anything. Becky couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed that she was second pick to step up to bat for her little girl.

“It means I’m the mom-mom!” Becky growled. “I’m the one who dried her tears, who took her for the first big haircut, who bought her the first jaunty bow tie. I’m the one who never dropped the ball!”

“Nice, thank you for that.”

“Facts are just facts.”

“Until they find their way into your twisted little mind and then all of a sudden I’m a war criminal for buying our daughter a few pink dresses. Good one.” Charlotte gave a mocking thumbs up.

“You knew what you were doing,” Becky scoffed. “Should have seen the look of horror on your face when she came home ready to show off her new haircut to you.”

“For the record, you narcissistic asshole, that look of horror was because you took her to get her long blonde hair chopped off while I was at the development territory without so much as a heads up. I was shocked, that’s all.” Charlotte grew thin-lipped.

“I still don’t understand why she asked you not to tell me.” Becky shook her head and swallowed hard.

“Because she loves you and she doesn’t like letting you down, the thought of you being disappointed is unbearable.” Charlotte looked as if she empathised with their eldest.

“Disappointing me?” It didn’t make sense in Becky’s mind, still.

“Yeah, remember that rousing peptalk you gave last time? Something-something, kick their teeth down their throats or else you would do it for her?”

“Solid advice.”

“You really don’t know her as well as you think you do if you thought that was helpful.” Charlotte almost laughed, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. “She worships the ground you walk on, Becks, no doubt there, but she doesn’t like the way you do things. It scares her.”

“Yeah, because you’re really Miss Congeniality,” Becky sassed.

“I’m not saying that. Your ways of doing things, well, they’re my ways too… that was always one of our special couple things.” Charlotte turned in her seat and looked right into Becky’s soul, her nose wrinkling up briefly with the fond memory. “But I can take a softer approach, talk things through, use common sense. You only know how to be a hundred-and-ten percent, all or nothing, ready to throw down at the drop of a hat. Sometimes life needs a little more carrot and a little less stick.”

“Common sense? Talking things through?” Becky lowered her voice and became interested with the concept. “Where exactly were all of these qualities when you were on the road having an affair while I was at home looking after your children, out of curiosity?”

“Affair insinuates it was ongoing and secretive, which it wasn’t. I betrayed you, I cheated on you, but I did not have an affair. I told you immediately the next morning what had happened.” Charlotte levelled a serious look. “I can’t apologise anymore than I already have, so I won’t.”

“The lies we tell ourselves...” Becky slouched and leaned her head back.

Charlotte rolled her eyes and sat up stiffer. “I was on the road and we saw each other once a week, sometimes once a fortnight. I was drunk and it happened, and the entire time I thought of you—”

“Now is not the time or place,” Becky warned.

It never would be, she decided firmly as the vomit had to be pushed down her throat and back into the swell of her belly. In her mind, in some small way, she would always be married to Charlotte, always be doubled-over in agony with a phone receiver pressed to her ear, muffling her sobs for the sake of the children, acid climbing the roof of her mouth, as the excruciating details of what her wife had done the night before were tearfully admitted. That would always be the state of things. Becky could not move on from it.

“Alright,” Charlotte conceded with a deep sigh and blinked hard. “I’m still sorry it happened,” she added quietly.

“Shove your apology up your—”

“Mrs and Mrs Flair?” The secretary’s head popped around the door, eyeing the pair of them carefully as if she had just stumbled into the scene of a domestic argument. “The principal is ready when you are.” She offered a tight smile.

“It’s Lynch,” Becky bristled and stood from the plastic chair. She turned and peered at Charlotte, mouthing in her direction a silent, inaudible, ‘fuck you.’

“Just let me handle it,” Charlotte muttered and gathered her purse and coat.

The principal’s office was large and overbearing, the searing light from the courtyard outside illuminating all sorts of ancient books stacked and piled on towering bookcases that wrapped around the room. Becky felt as if she were stepping into a scene from Hogwarts, and quickly surmised that this was what the children’s private school fees went towards. She peered at her ex-wife who had the same impressed and equally shocked look on her face. It was a wonderous thing, money. Especially when it was Charlotte’s that was being spent.

“Mrs and Mrs Flair, great to see you.” The Principal stood from his leather chair and extended his cumbersome hand over the mahogany desk.

“We’re separated.” Becky started and then stopped. “Well, divorced as of June, actually, and let me tell you she did not get the nutribullet blender in the settlement so all things considered I’m absolutely made up about the whole thing.” She crushed his hand hard as she shook it. “You can call me Mrs Lynch, and her, well, whatever you feel like calling a woman who _accidentally_ cheated on the mother of her children…”

“You’re so stupid,” Charlotte leaned and muttered beneath her breath.

Becky remembered a time when those words were said with the most loving, heart-eyed expression, her wife’s voice so soft and full of fondness that it could never be misinterpreted for an insult. The way Charlotte said it now was cold and short, as if she were simply stating a fact.

“Well, er, Mrs Flair and Mrs Lynch feels most appropriate in that case? As I’m sure you’re aware I’m Mr McMahon, I’m Emily and Olivia’s principal,” he said, taking his seat.

Both of them briefly glanced in each other’s direction and resisted the urge to smirk. Becky more so, if she had any choice in the matter she would never smile in commiseration with the cheater again.

“Any relation to Vince?” Charlotte asked, her voice wobbling softly with humour.

“No,” Mr McMahon smiled and scratched his chin. “Just a small coincidence.”

“A big one, I’d argue,” Becky said, and grabbed one of the two chairs that had been placed too closely together for her liking, she inched it away to the far side of his desk and took her seat. “Right, if we are all finished with the pleasantries I think it’s time we get down to business lads.” She entwined her hands and leaned forward on the mahogany desk with a severe expression.

The principal gulped.

Charlotte grabbed the back of Becky’s chair and leaned down next to her ear, dropping her voice to a cautious, threatening whisper. “You’re blowing it already and you need to stop, so shut your damn mouth and let me handle this…” She pulled away and grabbed her own chair, dragging it to the other side of his desk until there was a safe amount of distance between them. “Mr McMahon, do you mind if I call you…” Charlotte became stuck, searching for less weird nomenclature.

“Rick?” He suggested his first name with a raised brow.

“Still too weird,” Becky added, suddenly remembering the ex-father-in-law she still to this day had to dodge in the corridors at work.

“Richard it is then,” Charlotte said with a beaming smile, her voice cheery like the perfect soundbite of a chipper, PTA parent. She shifted her purse on her lap and blinked rapidly, as if the urge to be snappy and forceful was being shoved down into her gut. “Thank you for seeing me, er, I mean us, on such short notice.” She smiled again.

Becky rolled her eyes and bit her tongue. Nine days was anything but short notice, Charlotte could have arranged this meeting with transatlantic carrier pigeons and brought the whole extended-family over from Ireland with that amount of time to play with. Part of Becky wished that she had done exactly that. Her cousins, Dermot and Shane, they would know exactly how to straighten this situation out the proper, hands on way.

Richard nodded and leaned back in his chair, his expression somber as if the severity of the situation did not go amiss upon him a single bit. It was strangely comforting in Becky’s mind. Maybe Charlotte was right, maybe they wouldn’t have to flex their muscles after all.

Richard licked his lips and started to speak, “I’m grateful that we can come together and agree there is a huge problem where Emily is concerned. What we do next really needs to be focused on what’s best for her.”

“Absolutely,” Charlotte agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “I think it’s important that we take strong, decisive action. Is suspension something that could be on the cards?”

“Well.” Richard looked puzzled. “Do you think it’s necessary to take it that far? I was assuming that resolution would start at home, with the both of you, and as her school we could support her with counselling and—”

“Wait,” Becky interrupted and the rage began to swell. “Rewind. What the ever loving feck are you talking about, Richard?” She raised an intimidating eyebrow.

From the corner of her eye, Charlotte was already twitching too. It became immediately clear that the Principal was under the impression that Emily, their daughter who wouldn’t say boo to a ghost or tred on an ant even if it meant tip-toeing around the cracks of the pavement, was the problem here.

“Mrs Flair, when you called my secretary and asked for this meeting, she told me it was because you were concerned about how Emily was being treated by her classmates. I was under the impression that you both understood the very clear reason that she was being ostracised…” He lifted his brow.

“Let me be perfectly clear.” Charlotte raised her finger and quirked a frightening, close to breaking point smile. She leaned slightly over the desk, “I am here to see you because our daughter has been bullied, harassed, and denied the basic human right to use the bathroom just because she likes a tight fade and a bow tie. We want the children responsible for making our daughter’s life a living hell to face consequences for their actions, I think that’s reasonable.” She somehow remained relatively diplomatic.

Richard nodded in agreement and ran his lips inside his teeth. “It’s a very difficult situation, Mrs Flair, and I am sympathetic that Emily has been treated with a lack of compassion by her classmates, which I can assure you, they were given a stern talking to over the matter.”

“Oh well thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph for that,” Becky sassed and slapped her thighs. “Did you hear that, Charlotte? Richard gave them a _stern_ talking too.” She nodded mockingly at her ex-wife.

Richard ignored the comment. “I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for Emily dealing with her guardians divorcing—”

“Her mothers, you mean,” Becky corrected sharply. “There’s no guardianship about it.”

“Her mothers, of course,” Richard conceded with a tight, uncomfortable smile. “But, you both have to agree that Emily is a very boisterous, confused, tomboyish girl.” He gave a troubled expression.

Becky inhaled sharply and looked at Charlotte with a severe glare, she looked away and swallowed hard. Charlotte was in equally bad shape, her fingers growing tight around the straps of her purse as if she might swing it around like a bludgeon and start breaking things. Becky did not like the direction this was heading in one bit.

Charlotte leaned forward further. “Our daughter isn’t boisterous in the slightest and confused is just about the last thing I would describe her as. But, I am curious to hear what you think the solution to all of this should be, Richard?” she dared with a tilt of her chin.

“Children don’t respond very well to things they don’t understand, parents too.” Richard beat around the bush. “For her sakes, I don’t think it would be inappropriate to ask that you both tone things down slightly with the haircuts and boyish clothes.”

“Emily is not a thing! She is a tiny, perfect, impressionable, little person who likes to make very utilitarian choices when it comes to how she dresses herself!” Becky burst and couldn’t contain the rage anymore. “I think the resolution is to just pull Emily out of this school and save ourselves the astronomical amount of money that pays for that lovely leather recliner you’re sitting in, Richard, because you are part of the problem here, not her.”

“I mean it’s my money that sends them to this school...” Charlotte tilted her manicured hand side to side, demonstrating the rocky foundation Becky built her argument upon. “But other than that I really couldn’t have said it better myself. It seems like the leadership here is the problem, certainly not our girl.”

Becky felt a reassuring squeeze to her hand, she glanced down and saw Charlotte’s long manicured fingers on top of her own. Somewhere in the middle of this fiasco her ex-wife had apparently shuffled her chair back towards the center of the battlefield so they could fight side by side. Becky swallowed and felt her heart grow ticklish, now was not the time and so instead she glanced away until the hand finally retreated back to its side of no man’s land.

“The way Emily behaves concerns the other parents.” Richard levelled a serious look. “They want to be understanding, god knows they do, but the thought of her using the same bathroom and changing facilities when she presents so masculine?” He winced. “It’s very troubling for them.”

“I’ll show them trouble alright,” Becky muttered quietly.

“You and me both,” Charlotte replied under her breath, frustrated.

Becky had to fight the urge to smile. She realised how much she fondly missed being on the same team as the big blonde one. It almost made her feel guilty for making Charlotte pay entirely for the school fees after the separation, and half of the mortgage for a home she hadn’t stepped inside in over two years, the joint gym membership she definitely had forgotten to cancel, the Netflix account, and, well, the list went on.

Becky smirked slightly and realised she didn’t feel guilty at all, not really. That was the collective sum total charge plus service fee of having the gall to fuck another woman, and she stood firmly by her decision to make Charlotte pay.

Richard grew slightly flustered and settled his hands on the desk authoritatively. It drew Becky back to the present, here and now.

“If you want to pull your daughters out of school that’s your choice as their parents but it won’t solve the problem. Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job raising Emily, but this fixation she has on being butch is disruptive and needs to stop before it gets out of hand.”

Becky flew across the desk.

“Relax!” Charlotte boomed, her arms tightened around her gut and yanked Becky backwards before she could land one on the old man.

 _Relax._ There was something about that word that got under Becky’s skin, something that left her acid-mouthed and doing the exact opposite. She wrestled herself free of Charlotte’s grasp and stood there, heaving, her eyes locked on the shrivelling principal in his dishevelled jacket.

“I didn’t bring her into this world for an overpaid eejit in a cheap suit to shrivel his nose because she has the audacity to be herself.” Becky shook, her finger pointing towards Charlotte. “Thank your lucky stars this one has forearms like shit shovels.”

“Well if that’s that.” Richard stood up and straightened himself. “I wish Emily and Olivia the best of luck for their academic future, I’ll have my secretary forward you brochures for schools that might be more equipped to handle their needs.” He gestured towards the door.

“Get tae fuck you maggot.” Becky tried to launch herself again, infuriated.

A hand grew tight around Becky’s forearm and dragged her out of the office. Once outside, the rage became thick and sludgy, almost. It was more to do with their marriage than Becky felt she could admit. Charlotte just stood there with big, furious eyes, the trademark look for when she was on the brink of her last nerve too. The school hallway was silent and empty, the children stuffed inside classrooms that would soon pour out for home time at the strike of three.

This was not the time or place for a throwdown fight, but Becky was growing ever certain it would be the case.

“Tell me why you did it.” Becky shoved her shoulders, hard.

“Did you want to go to jail back there? Because that’s how you go to jail, you idiot.” Charlotte hissed and reared forward until their noses nearly touched.

“I’m talking about Oslo, two years ago!” Becky burst.

The color drained from Charlotte’s face, she blinked and stood back. Becky lost her breath and clenched her eyes closed, grieving and furious.

“You know why,” Charlotte admitted with a tight, quiet sigh.

“Don’t go there.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions, you know why it happened.”

“One argument does not give you the right.” Becky halted, the memories of the huge fight they had before Charlotte left for the tour running thick and fast through her mind like a torrent. “Third time’s the charm, remember how we joked about that?” She opened her eyes again.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte scowled at the low blow. “It wasn’t one fight. It was a constant, permanent, never ending fight because I went back to work and you were jealous. It was months of sleeping on the sofa, walking on eggshells, not knowing how to make you happy.” She lifted a finger from her clenched fist for each point made.

“Well you really dropped a bollock if you thought fucking Sonya was going to cheer me up.”

“I was sad and drunk, and she was warm. That was that.”

“I wish you hadn’t of told me.”

“That wouldn’t have been decent or honest.”

“Oh give over! Telling me was selfish, you told me to hurt me because you mistakenly thought I’d forgive you. It was you one upping me. It was _always_ you one upping me, Char.”

Charlotte sighed. “Maybe you’re right, maybe on some level.”

“Not entirely your fault, is it? Deadbeat daughter like deadbeat father, after all,” Becky scoffed and took a jab at Ric for good measure.

She forgot how hard Charlotte could hit, but apparently the passage of time did not. The punch left Becky’s arm immediately dead and limp, completely useless, hanging their like a weight. She clutched her arm and shot her ex-wife a furious look.

It was go time.

Charlotte grew wide eyed. “Becks, you need to—” The front kick winded that annoying, stupid word out of Charlotte’s gut. She dropped like a felled tree, slung forward and heaved for breath. When she glanced up again with glowering eyes, Becky immediately knew she made a mistake. “You’re dead!” Charlotte bellowed at the Irish woman.

Charlotte speared her through the stomach, crashing her backwards into a receptionist desk until she toppled over the counter. Becky gasped for breath and winced as the thick lip of marble tenderised the middle of her back. She reached and slapped out her hand against the counter for something to defend herself with, all while her ex-wife grunted and growled on top of her.

In her best case scenario, she would have perhaps grabbed a binder folder or maybe even a stapler depending on how frisky the cheater grew. Instead, regretfully, her fist tightened around an entire office telephone and that was what she bashed against the side of Charlotte’s head. It sent Nature Girl spinning into a bookcase.

“Well I think I’m ready to try this talking thing instead if you are?” Becky huffed for breath and pulled herself off of the reception desk, suddenly unsure on whether this was a fight she could win.

Charlotte turned around with blinding, white-hot rage in her eyes. She was pink cheeked with her perfectly styled hair now strung across her forehead, huffing for breath like a wounded lioness, lips pulling into a fierce snarl.

Becky gulped hard.

The Queen pummelled her face first into a classroom door, locking an arm behind her back until it felt like the limb might snap. Becky opened her eyes and felt her face smear along the window grotesquely, her lips and eyelid caught the friction of the glass and dragged close behind the rest of her face. She peered in and saw a small reading group of six and seven year olds staring back at her.

“Do you give up?” Charlotte hissed against her ear.

“I’m not you, I don’t give up on things,” she grunted back.

“Look! It’s The Man and Charlotte Flair!” One child inside the classroom pointed excitedly towards them.

“No! God no, it’s not!” Becky grunted through the window her nostrils were pressed up against, aware that this wouldn’t go over well if Emily or Olivia found out. “Get back tae reading your book children, nothing to see here!” Her breath steamed the glass.

She twisted her body and got out of the armlock, clocking her ex-wife in the jaw with a sharp elbow as she did. It sent Charlotte stumbling. Becky followed and grabbed Charlotte by the nape of her neck, forcing her head down as she dragged her along the hallway and directly into a large, overfilled garbage can.

“Real mature!” Charlotte hissed and huffed, sprawled out on the floor in a pile of garbage. She flicked pieces of banana skin and orange peel off of herself and clambered back up to her feet.

“I swear to god I will waterboard you in a drinking fountain,” Becky struggled to catch her breath, hunched over with hands on her knees. It had been a while since somebody took her to the limit like this.

Charlotte kicked her legs out from underneath her with one almighty pelt of her shin.

“When did you learn how to do that!” Becky barked as her ex-wife grabbed her by the foot and began to drag her flailing body down the linoleum hallway.

“Judo, mixed martial arts, I’ve been busy.”

“Tell me you didn’t!” Becky grew wide-eyed at the thought of the woman she still loved sharing a bed with Ronda Rousey too.

Charlotte halted in her tracks but kept a firm hold on the back of her heel, still. She turned over her shoulder with a look of disbelief.

“Of course I didn’t!” she said, disgusted and well aware of what Becky was insinuating.

“Oh, well.” Becky blinked, embarrassed. “Let’s continue, please, don’t let me stop you from dragging me to God knows where. Not as if we’re in a school or anything.” She shrugged petulantly.

Charlotte dragged her through the hallway towards the exit with her  purse slung over the other arm. The pair of them were completely dishevelled, exhausted and out of breath. By the time they got towards the front reception Charlotte stopped and turned around again.

“You ready to pull up your big girl panties and walk out of here like a grown up? Or do I need to drag you to the car?” Her voice was a tight, low whisper.

“I’ll walk,” Becky hissed back, and her black boot was immediately dropped.

She rubbed her leg and glanced back up at her ex-wife, Charlotte was stood with a hand offered out to help her back to her feet.

Becky accepted it.

“I could have taken you if I actually wanted to hurt you,” Becky assured and dusted herself off, her bravado refusing to wane.

“Shut up.” Charlotte grabbed her wrist and pulled her past the shocked receptionist clutching at her pearls. “Two years since we’ve been in the same room and you have to make it a pissing contest,” she muttered.

The parking lot was relatively busy with parents pulling in to collect their children. It was mainly other mothers, the prim and wealthy sort, peering at the pair of them from around expensive vehicles and muttering to each other about that strange same-sex family who did the wrestling stuff on television. None of it went amiss on either of them.

“On the plus side at least we won’t have to deal with this craic anymore,” Becky mumbled to Charlotte as she rubbed her sore elbow, barely managing a thin slither of public decorum.

“There’s always going to be parents like them wherever we send the girls,” Charlotte reasoned thoughtfully and straightened her jacket.

Her fingers discovered a tear in the beige seam of her immaculate Burberry coat as she ran her hands down the material. Her eyes bulged in anger, looking towards the Irish woman as the source of the blame.

“Sorry about that,” Becky sighed and glanced at the small hole. “And for hitting you with a telephone too, that was unnecessary.”

“I’m so glad you’ve grown enough as a person in the last ten minutes to see that.”

“You still throw a mean swing too, it was very impressive.” The compliment made The Queen almost smile.

“I forgot how hard you kick,” Charlotte admitted fondly.

“And that armlock?” Becky raised her brows, impressed. “Still got it, never lost it.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte smiled.

“You too.”

“What do we tell the girls?” Charlotte mused as they strode across the parking lot.

“We lie through our teeth. I say we just tell them we’re moving them to a school that’s closer to our area.” Becky scratched her head, this place was at least a forty minute drive on a good day. It seemed plausible enough.

“Great point,” Charlotte commended her.

Becky furrowed a small smile, it was actually a very pleasant feeling being complimented by the woman she had spent the best part of two years trying to hate. She would no doubt have to remember to mention it to her therapist, when she eventually got round to hiring a therapist. Perhaps Charlotte could pay for that too, she toyed with the idea.

Footsteps raced up behind them and Becky immediately froze and grabbed Charlotte’s wrist. If there was about to be another altercation with the school, or maybe even the police, she wanted the big blonde one on her side this time for the throwdown.

“Mrs and Mrs Flair?” A prim, sharp voice beckoned their attention.

They turned around in unison, neither of them bothering to correct the mistake this time. There was a short, plump woman with her hands on her hips waiting to greet them. She was southern and perhaps in her early forties, definitely the stay-at-home sort with a wealthy-enough husband.

“I understand there’s been some trouble between our children,” the woman announced almost fiercely. “I’m the twins’ mother, Rachel. I believe there was an incident involving your daughter and the girls bathroom last week?”

Becky stepped forward ready to knock her head off already but the hand on her wrist remained firm and tight, pulling her backwards like a rottweiler on a leash.

“You believe correctly,” Charlotte said in an equally cool, polite southern tone, peering down her nose at the other mother like a lioness entertaining the lamb it was about to devour.

“Well,” Rachel became staunch and puffed out. “I cannot begin to tell you how deeply sorry I am. I certainly don’t profess to understand everything but what I do know is that your child deserves to feel safe at school. When my girls came home and told me what had happened…” She pulled a shocked, disgusted face. “Well, needless to say I strung their asses up.”

“Thank you, like you said, the most important thing is that we just want our girls to go somewhere they feel safe and respected.” Charlotte commiserated.

“Mrs Flair,” Rachel trailed, her stare deepening. “I think your temple is bleeding.” She pointed to the small dribble of blood from the scratch on the side of her head.

“It was a bee,” Becky interrupted, swallowing hard. “A very big bee.”

“Yes.” Charlotte burned crimson and nodded. “I was just walking and he landed on the side of head. Becky swatted him off, maybe a little too hard though, right, Becks?” Charlotte chuckled awkwardly.

“No, it was definitely the right amount of hard. The bee had it coming.” Becky offered a small, satisfied smile.

“Well, I’ll let you two get on your way. I just wanted to let you know that there are parents here on your side,” Rachel smiled at the strangeness and bid them goodbye.

They waved and watched her walk away, relaxing their shoulders at exactly the same time.

“She was nice,” Becky mused and dug her hands in either jean pocket.

“Maybe they’ll be parents like her at the new school too?”

“One can hope,” she agreed.

“By the way, a big bee?” Charlotte muttered quietly.

“You were the one who said it was a he, which means the bee was so big he had a visible cock and balls on him, Charlotte.”

“You’re so stupid.” It was said far more fondly and quiet this time, just like she remembered.

“You miss it every day of your life.”

“You’re not wrong,” Charlotte agreed without thinking.

They both looked at each other with a heavy, thoughtful pause. The truth of the matter was that Becky felt it too; the longing, the need, the fucking silliness of it all, the indescribable feeling that part of her heart was missing and she wouldn’t be whole again until it was safely back where it belonged. It was the reason she couldn’t stand the thought of being in the cheater’s presence, because she knew, wholeheartedly, the urge to forgive and forget would creep up on her with frightening immediacy.

It was the little things she missed, the stuff that you only really know you could miss in the first place once it was ripped out of your world. The smell of peppermint tea drifting from the kitchen before bed. The lacy, red underwear that would be discovered in the laundry and invoke immediate memories of the night before. The constant threat of a thinly-whispered, ‘Relax,’ hanging over her head whenever she was being an idiot.

The warm, all forgiving hug after she had carried on being an idiot anyway.

Truth be told, she missed it all so deeply it left pitted scars in her heart. And the fact Charlotte wasn’t wrong about the constant arguing only added insult to injury, because yes, she wasn’t the one who cheated, but god knows she withdrew from the marriage long before the big blonde idiot did. And that was yet another thing Charlotte was right about—despite Becky constantly protesting otherwise—the fighting was absolutely because she had to stay at home while Charlotte got to go back to work. What a silly thing to eventually cost them their marriage, she knew without a doubt.

“Can I ask you something?” Charlotte spoke up, a strange look of fear lurking behind her blue eyes.

Becky swallowed and stood straighter. “Mhm.”

“Was it worth ending the marriage over? Were you happier after you told me to leave?” Charlotte grew heavier, as if she didn’t want to know the answer.

Becky hesitated for a moment.

“Yes,” she gingerly lied.

“Oh.” Charlotte nodded and her throat visibly clenched. “Good. That you’re happy—I mean. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Well I’m happy,” Becky replied.

“Yeah?”

“Really happy. I’m so happy. I’m doing great, everything is good.” She dug the hole a little deeper.

“Good.” Charlotte bleeped her car and stepped forward towards the Irish woman. “So… you’re happy?” She nodded, just to be sure.

“Mhm, life is good without you, who knew?” Becky repeated dumbly, the absolute opposite of happy if ever she once knew the feeling.

For the first time in two years Charlotte was right there, within touching distance, closer than touching distance, her height softly looming over her. Becky ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth and blinked hard, well aware she would regret it if she broke and fell into her arms.

“Well, I guess I’ll stay here and wait for the girls to finish school. What with it being my week with them...” Charlotte’s voice trailed around the obvious, and she looked off to the clouds overhead with hands dug in either pocket.

It dawned on Becky that this was it, the thing she feared the most, neither of them wanted to say goodbye.

“Mhm,” Becky agreed, her breathing slightly heavier now.

“Are we going back to post notes in the lunchboxes or are we on talking terms—”

Becky kissed Charlotte so hard it took her off balance and wobbled her legs. The blonde shoved an arm against the car for leverage, her other hand grabbing the sore, tender, small of Becky’s spine.

Her cheekbones were warm beneath Becky’s palms, so warm and familiar like no time had passed at all. She was furious about Oslo, still, of course, and probably would be forever, but it wasn’t the most pressing thing on her list of shit to do. The task of gobbling and nibbling Charlotte’s bottom lip was too consuming, too longed for.

Charlotte kissed her back hard, as if she were determined to burrow a little piece of herself beneath the icy-exterior the Irish woman had spent two years trying to develop when it came to all matters them related. She was growing successful in her attempts, Becky growled into the kiss and remembered too much at once.

“I hate you,” Becky whimpered and felt her throat grow tight with the pain, she pulled away slightly and shook her head. “I hate you so much it’s unbelievable.” She grew small.

“No, you don’t,” Charlotte told her, quiet and firm on the issue as she swept back her long ginger hair softly.

“You broke my heart, you desecrated it,” Becky warned with thin tears in her flitting eyes, unsure of how to process so much hurt, so quickly. “It was so rude of you.”

“Baby, you have no idea.” Charlotte gravely shook her head, as if a day hadn’t passed without her punishing herself for the same thing.

“I hate you.”

“It’s okay if you do, if that’s what you need to do to move on with life then I understand,” Charlotte whispered sympathetically, which only made the pain more pungent.

Becky kissed her again, softer, more desperate, determined to discover that she didn’t enjoy it anymore. Her forearms found the back of Charlotte’s neck, tightening, pulling, holding her close like a muscle memory that couldn’t be unlearned. Charlotte just stood there and made it easy, her fingers rubbing along Becky’s spine where a bruise was already brewing.

“Stupid, you’re so stupid,” Becky mumbled into her mouth.

“I know,” Charlotte complained with a sigh, her head gently lulling forward into Becky’s chin. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she admitted.

“Well, we’re very good at trying to kill each other,” Becky whispered into her scalp.

“Aren’t we?”

“Definitely, thinking of ways to kill you is what I masturbate too.”

“Nice,” Charlotte laughed and gawked as she rose her head again. “You never change, do you?”

“Do you?” Becky lifted an eyebrow.

“In the ways that matter, I like to think.” Charlotte inhaled deeply. “I wouldn’t cheat on the mother of my children again if I could go back and do things differently, that’s for sure.” The words pulled at Becky’s heart.

“Look, we don’t have enough time for a quickie in the back of the car and that’s all I’m inclined to let you have,” Becky blurted.

“Four minutes by my watch?” Charlotte lifted up her Rolex.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“That was a low blow.”

“Facts are facts.”

“Well, alright,” Charlotte quirked a smile at the cheekiness of it. “The kids and I get pizza on handover day. I usually get the one you like, you know, the one with spinach and ricotta?” Charlotte scooted around the point. “We could share one, if you felt like tagging along? I think Emily and Olivia would like that.”

“I think I could forgive you,” Becky blurted awkwardly and scratched her head. “You don’t deserve it, but I could.”

“Maybe pizza is a good place to start?” Charlotte suggested, her smile petering. “And if pizza doesn’t end with criminal charges, maybe we could try a counselling session or two, some time?”

“We’re not getting back together,” Becky scoffed a bit too defensively.

“I know,” Charlotte didn’t skip a beat. “Would just be nice to have you around again, as a friend, I guess?” She nodded awkwardly. “You’re easy to miss.”

“We’re a long way from friends.”

“Then let it just be pizza for the sake of pizza.”

“I do want to check on Emily,” Becky reasoned, her disposition softening a little more to the idea.

“That would be good, they miss you when they’re with me.”

“Vise versa.”

“Really?” Charlotte seemed surprised.

“Apparently Mommy’s house has HBO.” It made Becky smirk, because of course the big blonde would eventually slip up with her impeccable strict parent routine.

Charlotte winced. “I know they’re too young to watch Westworld and Game of Thrones but—”

“Relax,” Becky gloated now it was finally her turn to say that word. “I know you fast forward the shifty bits.”

“You fast forward the bad parts too right?”

“No, saves me having to give them the birds and the bees talk in a year or two.”

“Becks!” Charlotte gawked in disbelief.

“Oh for fuck sake, Charlotte, I’m joking. I don’t even let them watch it to begin with.” She rolled her eyes in disbelief.

“When did we switch roles?”

“You’ll be the strict one again when they start dating, don’t get used to this.”

“No,” Charlotte laughed, well aware of the truth. “Forget your wheelhouse, that’s your whole damn ship.”

“I know,” Becky winced and didn’t want to think about it. “One minute they were tiny, and now they’re still relatively small but one dresses like a sharper Michael Bublé and the other has four pretend husbands.” Becky grew exasperated with the thought of them getting much older, she wasn’t sure she would survive it.

“At least one of the kids takes after me.” Charlotte gave a wry look.

“Oh fine! I’ll come for pizza,” Becky relented with a groan. “You know I can’t resist it when you make self-deprecating jokes, it’s my Kryptonite.”

“What are you two doing here?” A shocked, small voice balked.

Their heads snapped around at the two tiny people who had crept up on them. Emily stood there with her tie loosened a bit off the collar, shirt sleeves rolled up to her forearms thanks to the afternoon warmth, a confused brow furrowing up past moppy blonde hair that needed a trim. Olivia just clutched at her little backpack straps and smiled happily, unconcerned by the sight of her parents interacting.

“How was school, pumpkins?” Charlotte beamed at them both and tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears.

“I’m asking the questions here, Mom,” Emily looked at her sternly, and then at Becky for good measure.

“God she is so much like you,” Becky leaned and muttered to Charlotte, amused by the fact. She stepped forward to the batting plate and decided to take one for the team. “I turned up unannounced to the meeting with the principal, your mom tried to make me leave but I’m much stronger than her so she didn’t get very far.” The truth was fiddled with.

“Ma, why would you do that?!” Emily’s eyes snapped wide open at Becky.

Charlotte butted in, her hands settling on either hip. “Because she loves you, and family always looks out for each other.”

“So… did it go okay?” Emily swallowed nervously.

“It went just fine,” Charlotte lied. “It was calm, uneventful, just like I promised it would be. We’ve got everything in hand.”

“And what did Principal McMahon say?” Emily eyeballed her mothers and pressed for further details.

“That he wished he could afford suits as expensive as yours, kiddo.” Becky smiled and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “What else did he say, Char? My memory’s playing up...” She glanced to Charlotte.

Emily looked at her expectantly.

“Mhm.” Charlotte’s expression grew tight at the hole they were now digging. “Well, he mentioned how weird it was we sent you guys here when Saint Mary’s is only ten minutes away from where we live…” She forced an awkward smile. “In fact, me and your mama we’re just talking about it and that is pretty weird, don’t you think?”

“Is Saint Mary’s the one where the kids wear blazers and ties?” Emily’s eyes lit up slightly.

“And white dress shirts, don’t forget the white dress shirt,” Becky added enthusiastically with a slight, impressed nod.

“Oh,” Emily paused and furrowed in thought for a moment. “That is kinda weird, I guess.”

“Well we can talk about it later, scruff,” Charlotte pulled her eldest in for a hug. “Snugs first, pizza second. You, get in here too. I’ve missed my tiny ones.” She grabbed the little one for a snuggle.

“Missed you, Mommy,” Olivia muttered tiredly into her thigh.

“Long day, Liv?” Charlotte chuckled at her little yawn.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head and burrowed a little deeper. “Frankie came back from reading group today and said Charlotte Flair and The Man were wrestling in the hallway but I said it wasn’t true because they’re my mommies and they’re not allowed to be in the same room as each other,” she sighed softly.

“That was your fault,” Becky mouthed silently at her ex-wife.

“Fuck you,” she mouthed back over the children’s heads and flipped the middle finger.

Emily pulled away from Charlotte’s chest with a deep, almighty glare. “Please tell me you both didn’t.” She looked between her sheepish mothers. “You promised you wouldn’t make a scene!”

“Of course we didn’t!” Becky said fiercely, shaking her head in disbelief. “Honestly, it’s as if you have no faith in either of us. You know we’re sensible adults, right?”

“Then why does Mom have a scratch on the side of her head and you have her lipstick smeared on your face?!” Emily did the mental math but somehow came up with entirely the wrong incorrect equation.

Probably for the best really, Becky surmised to herself.

“There was a really big bee.” Charlotte became bird-mouthed and uncomfortable, she swallowed hard and spared the small detail of the spear into the receptionist’s desk and the office telephone wrapped around her skull. “It was just… so incredibly big, unbelievable, really.”

“I saved her life,” Becky nodded solemnly in agreement.

Charlotte gave her a sharp look. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“This thing was so big that when it breathed your mother’s hair blew like she was caught in a light breeze.” Becky continued nodding her head, aware their eldest was buying none of it. “If it had farted she would have lost an eye, honest to god.” She raised her hands.

A smirk formed at first, a few stifled titters following closely behind. The laughter only became more boisterous the harder Emily tried to hold it back. When her chest gave way and started to shake with the funniness of it, Becky and Charlotte both breathed a sigh of relief.

“You two are the worst,” Emily complained with a slump.

“We know,” Charlotte squeezed her shoulder. “Think you can love us anyway?”

“Always,” Emily looked at them like it was obvious.

“What about you, nibble?” Becky prodded the baby. “You love us too?”

“Sometimes Mommy more, sometimes you more,” Olivia shrugged and spared nobody’s feelings. “Can we get pizza now?”

“Would you mind if I tagged along?” Becky asked the kids, and out of the corner of her eye she watched Charlotte smile slightly.

“Told you,” Emily muttered at her little sister with a knowing look.

“Told her what?” Charlotte quirked a look.

“Nothing,” Emily shook her head and kept it quiet. “Pizza sounds good, can we go to the nice place with the lobsters in the fishtank?” She peered up at Charlotte expectantly. Olivia jumped up and down in agreement.

“I’m with scruff and nibs,” Becky added.

It had been years since she had been to that restaurant and she remembered it fondly, the food was expensive but very good, probably all the tastier too if Charlotte was paying.

Charlotte huffed and smiled, looking between her daughters, already defeated, outranked, out-voted, and well aware of the latter. She finally landed her eyes on Becky and allowed her stare to linger there, her smile becoming a tiny bit more prominent.

“Whatever my girls want,” she said with a defeated sigh.

 

   
  
_Oh, our fire died last winter_  
_All of the shouting blew it out_  
_You know I could live without or with you_  
_But I might like having you about_

 

 

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